She's a genious!



I would rather succumb to the weary waters of death, than be slave to a schedule, to clocks, and to the condescending yardstick that society insists on measuring one another with. For to have such a mechanical, and empty existence would surely crush my soul like porcelain against stone.


Gentleness indeed is not a riddance of strength, but an exercise of strength


For the beloved, the departed, we scrape away soil, and tear a vacant wound in mother earth, to be a cradle for the milky sheath of bones, where the echo of a heartbeat still endures, whispering memories into the abyss of wind. And all this, a prelude to the dismantling of structure, all this, a practiced ceremony for a barren shell of bones and vessels that no longer envelope the slip of a soul.



When I was a girl, they told me to be practical, and I was a dreamer. There was no misgiving, the flames of crescent dreams always coming higher, licking at the bedroom windows, kindling in my soul, a smoldering fire. And down, down burned the house of doubt, the place of skepticism, realism, lost to the fire.

girlmeetnyc